Diary of a Battered Child
by Aisling-Siobhan
Summary: HarryDraco&HarryLucius:::: Harry Potter was always a pest, a burden, a freak, never a son. Is it any wonder why Harry doesn’t love anyone with the example he was set? In his final moments he tries to tell a special person why they were only ALMOST loved.


Here we have a new one-shot… warning: angst and a not-happy-ending. Enjoy.

I'll have more of Brothers in Arms, and Mirror Image – and Kiss Me Deadly I suppose – up soon.

"**Diary of a Battered Child**"

**Disclaimer:** J.K's all of them, damn her… Song by Dystopia: "Diary of a Battered Child".

**Summery:** Harry/Draco: -: Angst song-fic. Harry Potter was always a pest, a burden, a freak, never a son. Is it any wonder why Harry doesn't love anyone with the example he was set? In his final moments he tries to tell a special person why they were only ALMOST loved. HP/DM, (HP/LM, HP/VD rape).

**Rating:** NC-17! SLASH! RAPE!

**A/N:** Song-fic… Written in Harry's POV. Read as if Harry had written this fiction as a letter. What HBP? Never heard of it

_XXX_

**Words:** 4,605

**Diary of a Battered Child**

When I was younger, it was all perfectly normal, so easy to remember. My name was 'boy', my nickname was 'freak'; it wasn't that hard to remember. I always answered to it, and I only ever got a small smack across the head, maybe across the face. Then when I was four, almost five, I had to start school. My Uncle Vernon didn't want me to, but Aunt Petunia said _they'd_ know if I didn't go. I didn't know who _they_ were. But if Uncle Vernon was scared of them, then I suppose I should have been too.

When I started school, the teacher kept asking for a 'Harry' but no one answered. She never called my name though, so I said nothing. At the end of the day Aunt Petunia came to pick Dudley up. She told me that I had to walk home because she didn't want to waste petrol driving 'the freak' around. I didn't realize she was already driving Dudley home. Even if I had realized I wouldn't have said anything. I started to walk. My teacher, Miss Patterson, caught up with me and offered me a lift. I knew I shouldn't have accepted but I was tired and I didn't really know my way home alone. If I got lost I'd be late, if I was late I wouldn't be able to finish dinner before Uncle Vernon got home and if I didn't finish dinner, Uncle Vernon would be mad enough to spank me with his belt. I didn't like that.

I accepted, I shouldn't have, but I did.

When we got to Number 4, Privet Drive, Miss Patterson got out of her car and helped me out too. Then she knocked on the front door. She shouldn't have done that. Aunt Petunia answered and she looked so angry. Now that I think back, I presume she wanted me to be late home, that way she could have the pleasure of watching her husband beat me. Aunt Petunia hesitantly let Miss Patterson inside. I had to make her tea though.

Miss Patterson, while really nice, caused me lots of problems. I kind of hated her for it. She asked my name, and I answered 'boy', and she laughed like I was making a joke. Then she asked Aunt Petunia, who said 'Harry', and me being the naive, innocent fool I was, had no idea that when someone glares and winks behind another persons back, it means 'lie, or die!'. So I told the truth.

"No it's not, my name is Boy. That's what Uncle Vernon calls me, miss." I had said, and Aunt Petunia looked so mad. If I had any brains, at all; if I had any reason to believe my Uncle Vernon could stop 'loving' me, I would have begged Miss Patterson to take me with her, and leave me where ever she liked as long as I was out of that house. Of course, I thought the way I was treated was normal and Dudley was just extra special. So I said nothing, did nothing more than dig the hole I was in, even deeper.

Eventually Miss Patterson managed to convince me my name was Harry, and each time I refused or insisted 'Boy' was my name, Aunt Petunia's face would turn a darker shade of red and her lips would get thinner. She looked remarkably like Vernon in hindsight. Maybe Snape was right, I really was, am, a brainless twit!

_Smack!  
My head hits the wall  
Don't know why this is happening to me  
A role model for me in this world  
"Do as I say and not as I do"  
Another slap across my face  
Just to show me that you care  
How can I fucking love you?_

The moment Uncle Vernon had come home that night, Aunt Petunia began to complain about her nuisance 'freak' nephew, and Dudley began to cry and wail, and stomp his foot, over the fact that the 'nice, pretty teacher lady' liked the 'useless, ugly freak' better than himself. Of course my Cousin Dudley Dursley was really switched at birth with a talking, walking baby whale with blond hair. But I would never have said that, not even after I learnt to use my wand. I'm not _that_ brainless!

There was nothing remotely loveable about Dudley Dursley: he was someone only a Mother could – stomach – love, maybe even a Father. I was smarter, prettier, wittier, braver, I could run faster, I survived death countless times, I was a Wizard, powerful, magical, I was a legend, the famous Boy-Who-Lived. That was the problem though: they didn't care how famous I was, unless they could get money out of me (I told them I didn't have any, I lied), I was magical. I was Aunt Petunia's Sister's Son. I was a 'freak' even if I was the Boy-Who-Lived.

'Boy'… you see I told Miss Patterson that was my name. 'Boy', 'Boy-Who-Lived', boy… freak… Harry… it's all the same, really. All said by people who hate and love me alike. None of them really matter. None of those names belong to me: I don't want them, they're all tainted. Hated by me, hated in general. I don't just hate my name I even hate myself.

Anyway, Uncle Vernon got home, got complained at, got cried all over, (I don't cry, did I mention that? I never once cried on Uncle Vernon and ruined his expensive suit, unlike Dudley), then he had the dinner I had to rush-make for him, and then he dragged me up to Dudley's spare bedroom by my hair. Did you know that was how your Father used to drag me around as well? Not that it matters anymore he'll get his. The Dursley's already got theirs. Did I tell you about that? Never mind, it can wait.

As I was saying before I let myself get distracted. If I thought he loved me before, he must have really 'loved' me now. He took his belt off, and I lay across his lap when he sat on the bed, knowing what was coming. That was normal, expected, I knew those rules. I had to scream as loud as I could, but I wasn't allowed to move or try and get away. So I lay still, and I screamed and he kept hitting me, even after I could feel the blood seeping through the seat of my pants. And I lay still, and I screamed even as he moved onto unmarked territories so to speak. He whipped my back and my thighs; hell he even smacked the souls of my feet with his belt too. You once asked where I got all the scars from, and I told you I had an accident. Well the accident I had was that I 'accidentally' got Miss Patterson involved with my life.

As bad as it may have been, it was getting progressively worse. I passed out from blood loss, and I couldn't move for a week after I caught an infection because Aunt Petunia didn't want to waste bandages on me. Uncle Vernon insisted I was just being lazy. It felt like I was dying, pet, it really did. And he kept beating me. I wasn't even five years old yet, and he beat me for not being able to stand. For not being able to go and make dinner for them all, at four and a half years of age. Did you even know what the word 'cooking' meant when you were that age, Pet?

As bad as your Father may have been to me, he never once raised a hand to you did he? Never once told you 'no', or threatened you, did he? You probably think that means he was cold and didn't love you, but if you've lived what I have you'd know better. Your Father loved you, enough to save you from me. At least. He used to tell me he loved me as well, did you know? He said he'd loved me for years, and that having me was ok, because he was keeping me away from you. He said I'd hurt you, but I couldn't hurt him so it was ok. In his own, warped, way he was trying to protect you (albeit being selfish in the process).

_What love do you have to share?  
None!  
Someday there's gonna be hell to pay  
For treating your son this way  
You cant take my dignity  
Without destroying your love for me  
And you wonder why I hate your fucking guts_

I had to have a week off school, because I couldn't move or stand. Then I had to have another half-week off, because when I finally managed to stand Dudley tripped me down the stairs and I opened most of my wounds again. Of course Aunt Petunia said I was just a klutz. When I went to school Miss Patterson was the first person to speak to me. She even got to me before Dudley's gang (yes he even had a gang in Infants, the bastard) could find me and beat me up.

I hated her again, more than I had the first time. Do you want to know what she told me Pet? She said she was 'worried about you, Harry', and that I 'don't look too good' and she asked if I was sick. And then, the crème de la crème, she was concerned about my environment. She said she had called Child Services to investigate. She said they'd probably have arrived now, and they'd be gone before I got home… leaving Uncle Vernon free to batter me, and Aunt Petunia to poison them against my pleas. If you're wondering what Child Services are, it's an organisation set with protecting children. Wizards don't have them, mainly because magical children are a gift (Molly Weasley told me that once), and no one would abuse them unless they were particularly deranged. Good thing Bellatrix didn't have kids huh? That was a joke, by the way.

I spent the entire day shifting in my seat, my bottom stung, and I hissed in pain every time I shifted because my school trousers weren't the best material. Aunt Petunia made them out of some old curtain fabric and then dyed it. It would have been quicker and probably cheaper to buy the trousers new. I got beaten up by Dudley during break, and at lunch Miss Patterson – while looking after me – sent me outside when she found me in the library because I 'needed more sun,' as I was 'far too sickly looking'. So I got beaten up again! And then I got home.

Suffice to say, I missed another week off school after that day. Eventually Miss Patterson turned up at the door one night, and brought her boyfriend with her. Miss Patterson came to talk to me, she said they were going to take me away and care for me. I wasn't ever as happy as I was then Pet, ever. No that's a lie, I was happy with you, even though I didn't say it often. Her boyfriend, Mr. Martin, stayed downstairs to talk to the Dursley's. I don't think he actually explained he was taking me away because Uncle Vernon would have jumped at the chance to be rid of me. Instead, he must have made them defensive. Miss Patterson and I came out of the kitchen and Mr. Martin looked so angry. I don't know what the Dursley's told him, but when I went back to school two weeks later – after another sever beating – Miss Patterson pretended I didn't even exist.

I hated her for that as well. She stood and watched Dudley kick me in the head and the back, while his friend Piers kicked my stomach, and she smiled like I deserved it. And I hated her for it!

_No time left for apologies  
Fuck you  
Grown apart from you  
I'm told that I am stupid  
You taught me all I know  
That I'm so fucking worthless  
And that my life's a joke _

Life pretty much carried on that way until I was eleven. When I got my Hogwarts letter (well I didn't get a _letter_, I had Hagrid turn up at 'the-hut-on-the-rock-in-the-sea' and give me a letter) I was also very happy. I remember feeling free, like I could just up and fly, fly, fly away from my crappy little life and my shitty not-little family. And then I got to Hogwarts, and I'd wished I'd never heard of the place. Yeah pet, that's right, I knew nothing about my fame or my fortune, or my supposed power. You were wrong, you were all wrong: I'd like you to show this to Snape please. Just to rub his fallacy in his face. You'd do it if you loved me Pet.

All the danger I had to face, all the danger I made my friends face, all or nothing. I still had to go back _there_ every summer and be a no body. My fame meant nothing; my victories against Voldemort were worth nothing. Nothing! All I was worth was pain and derision and hate and scorn and disgust and fear and suffering and blood… and you get the point. The only person I ever felt obligated to please – worthy of pleasing – was Snape because he was the only person I felt could ever be compared to my Uncle Vernon. The shower of bastards!

Even your Father was never so cruel. You know what Pet? I honestly do think he loves me: or _he_ thinks he does at any rate. It doesn't really matter, loving me never turns out too well I suppose. Sirius and my parents loved me, and look what happened to them. You loved me and you're probably insane from worry right about now. Are you even capable of reading this letter by yourself Pet? Or is Snape reading this out loud for you? Snorting as he insists I'm a 'dirty, cheating liar' like my dead old Dad? Doesn't matter.

Moving on, when I was fourteen I brought back Voldemort, not purposely or anything. Wormtail brought back Voldemort using my blood, would be more truthful. Do you want to know what happened that summer, Pet? When I got back to my relatives house? Maybe I should tell you what happened before the year. The Weasley Twins blew up the Dursley's living room, and the year before that I blew up (like a balloon) my Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge. When I came back that year, at the end of fourth year… Uncle Vernon had a bone to pick with me.

Aunt Marge was over, so Uncle Vernon drove me to some dirty little hostel somewhere (I don't even know where), and dragged me out of the car by my hair. He kicked and punched and screamed at me for almost an hour. The got back in his car, with my trunk and wand in his boot, told me he'd be back for me in two days and left me there. Alone. Defenceless: so much for blood protection. You know I hope Snape is reading this, and Dumbledore is listening in. If so, I'd like you to know that I'm giving you the finger you stupid, ignorant, self righteous, meddlesome old codger! I hate you too!

I also hate Madame Pomfrey, as much as she patched me up every first day back, did she ever think to tell anyone? Or get me help? Did Dumbledore ever check on me while I was growing up? Even after I told him I was terrified of going back there?

I stayed out there, in that hostel, in the middle of nowhere that I recognized, with no money and no wand, for half a day before something happened. There was a fight, people started screaming and shouting and shoving. And I was tucked in the corner of the room, camped out on a chair (Uncle Vernon wouldn't waste money paying for a room for 'the freak', would he?) trying to not be seen. It wasn't Death Eaters, so I didn't care. Didn't stop one guy from caring though. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and threw me into a wall. He told me I did something, said that I was in his way or something. Then he raved and ranted at me. And then he told me I was so pretty. I think that's when I finally got scared: Uncle Vernon told me I was pretty when I cried before he hurt me more, made sure I cried more.

I tried to fight back: I think he may have been drunk or on drugs or something, or under '_Imperious_' now that I look back on it. He was jerky, like he was trying not to talk, not to hit me, but he did it anyway, and his eyes were so blank Pet, it was like staring at Cedric all over again. Dead, not there, Dead… Dead! I screamed. I cried, and he did more than beat me. I was fourteen years old when I first had sex, how old were you? Was I your first, boy at least? Mine was a man I didn't know, a man who I hated for raping me. And I hated every single Muggle there, the twenty or so I'd willing hand over to Voldemort, because they stood by and watched as that man raped me.

I can't remember what happened next, only that I ended up at Number 4, Privet Drive a day early with a police officer at my side. Uncle Vernon told the officer I was a lying, and seeking attention brat and slammed the door in her face. When he demanded I tell him what I told the officer, I told him 'nothing', literally I had said nothing. The man who gave out the room keys came back from his unscheduled break and found that man on top of me. He figured out what had happened and called in the police and the ambulance. I told Uncle Vernon 'nothing', but I told him what happened to me, that I could remember. Stupid, I realize that.

Aunt Marge looked at me as if I was something scraped of the bottom of her shoe, the way your Father looked at Dobby, Pet, do you remember? Uncle Vernon saw the look and dragged me upstairs so I wouldn't ruin Aunt Marge's appetite. I was raped and he was worried about that bitch? Wonders never cease. Oh it gets worse. Vernon asked me how it was. Not who was it, where did it happen or was it because he left me there: he asked 'how was it, slut? Did you fuck you hard or gently? Did you scream for him like the slut you are?' And then he pushed me on the bed.

And he raped me, and he told me it was the only thing I was any good for. Sex, I was good for sex, for a quick fuck, but not to be loved. I could never make them love me, but then, why should they? I was only a fuck toy after all, it's not like I had feelings or anything. Thankfully, Uncle Vernon never got it into his head to make a bit of money from my apparent sexual prowess. Nor did he let Dudley 'soil himself with the freak', the hypocrite.

Do you want to hear about your Father Pet, about how he loved me? Do you think he fucked me hard or gently? Do you want to know how he showed me he loved me? How he used the Dursley's to show me he loved me and how I welcomed that particular piece of love? Do you want to know what horrible, evil sordid things your 'sweet, pretty Saviour' did for the love of Lucius Malfoy? Well, don't you…?

_Curled up in a ball  
Is how I spent my fucking life  
I tremble in fear and I'm bloody  
And I cant stop the tears from flooding my eyes  
What have I done to deserve  
The agony you call love_

We got together at the end of fifth year, didn't we? Disregarding Voldemort and Umbridge and even your Father. You loved me didn't you Pet? Enough to die for me, but you trusted your Father too. Trusted him enough to confide in him when he escaped from Azkaban after sixth year. At this time I was yet again exiled from the Dursley household, because Aunt Petunia was having friends around. Lucius found me in a park, I was just sitting there on the swing and he came up behind me and started pushing me. At first I thought he was you, Pet. I saw the tint of silver-blond hair and I smiled because I thought you came to visit me.

I was just waiting for your trademark 'I love you Harry, don't you love me too?' and a kiss. And he said it, "I love you Harry," except he rasped, like he hadn't spoken for years or if he'd just been '_Crucio_ed' and I froze. "Do you love me too Harry?" He asked me, and I tried to run, to get away. But all I could think of was Vernon whispering 'do you love me when I do this whore?' and I froze. And he took me, Portkeyed me to Malfoy Manor. Right into his bedroom, or I think I'm in his bedroom now.

I must have been here about a year; you've probably graduated now haven't you? It took me that long, about a year for him to trust me enough with some paper. I told him I wanted to tell you goodbye, and say I was sorry for everything I ever did to hurt you. Lucius was disappointed – I think he was beginning to believe he made me forget about you – but he gave me the paper and ink anyway.

The night he – fucked – me, I cried and he couldn't understand why. And when I tried to escape from him a week later he dragged me back to 'our' room by my hair, like Uncle Vernon used to do before he'd rape me (you didn't think it was just that one time did you?) and I'd fight back more. To be truthful, Lucius never really hurt me. And he took care of me, and he loved me, and he was the only one to do anything about the Dursley's.

They were my three-month anniversary present. First month, Lucius went to get my things back for me. Second month, he gave me back my wand. I couldn't use it though, he gave me a collar – said it was a late birthday present – that makes it impossible for me to hurt him. Essentially it ties us together: I can't hurt him, and I can't hurt myself. If I try and escape it will hurt me, and if Lucius dies, I die with him.

Anyway, third month present was the Dursley's. He brought me to the Dungeon and showed them to me. Naked and scared and vulnerable, like I had been plenty of times as a child. And he told me he loved me again, and that he's always loved me, and he always would. And then he said that even if I didn't love him, it would make us both happy to see those Muggles punished. And I had never agreed with a statement more.

He talked me through curses and hexes, all of them Dark Arts of course. And every time I failed to cast a spell, Lucius cast it for me on Dudley. It was rather ironic really, when Lucius put Dudley under the '_Imperious_' and made him rape Uncle Vernon. Teach him won't it! You know what… I kind of like Lucius, not love, but like, I suppose.

Do I even know what 'love' means?

_I got a broken arm and stitches  
While other kids got kisses and hugs  
Love / abuse  
Ever since I was born  
I get them confused  
You never cared  
You never will  
When I die  
Don't come to my funeral_

I'd like to make a request, as I haven't much time left this will have to be really fast. First off, I managed to cast the '_Imperious_' myself this morning, on a house-elf, and I managed to steal some poison. I'll leave it up to you to put those pieces together, but I'll tell you this. Lucius is due for lunch in another 10 minutes, so I need to finish and spell the letter before then.

So my request, when I'm buried, bury me with Lucius, as he was the only one who did anything note worthy to help me, even if he hurt me in the process. Hell, you can tell people its Stockholm syndrome if they ask, but do bury us together. And I have a list of people who will and will not attend my funeral.

To attend: Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy (obviously), and Severus Snape

To not attend: If you're not on the list above, don't bother turning up!

Now this last bit is for Draco himself, so the rest of you vultures can piss the fuck off.

Hey Pet, encase you didn't really get it before; I'm going to explain now.

This letter is time spelled, I found it in one of Lucius' books when I was suppose to be learning how to strip a persons flesh. Anyway, I never said the three words you would have killed to hear because I don't know what they mean. To you, 'love' means to be cared about and for, but to me 'love' is associated with pain and humiliation. I want you to know, that I'm sorry I proved Lucius right and I hurt you. But also, that if there was ever anyone I could – and would have given time – loved, it would have been you, my Draconais.

My beautiful, powerful Dragon, I almost loved you. I guess now we'll never know if I could have, either of us. And I'm so sorry about that, but dying was the only was I could get away from here.

And before you start on any half-arsed attempt to save me, stop and read. Don't plan on rushing to Malfoy Manor and throwing yourself in my arms and telling me 'almost' is good enough for you, because number one, it isn't. You deserve the best, not 'almost'.

And second, if you still haven't gotten it, this letter is time spelled. If I were alive right now, you wouldn't be reading it.

I really have nothing comforting to say, and I wont lie and write 'I love you Draco' because it would be a lie. And no matter how warped I am I won't cheapen what we did manage to have by starting to lie to you now. So I'll say this:

Thank you for loving me Draco. And never doubt I cared for you, and I was yours. You had my body willingly, if not my heart hesitantly. Given time I would have loved you, maybe I'll die loving you a little anyway. Like I said, not much comfort but it's the best I have.

After all, the way Voldemort was raised no one expects love from him either. Why should I be any different? Oh, by the way, I wont apologize for not killing him yet, because I really don't care.

'Almost loving' you, Draco,

With all my 'almost love',

Harry Potter.

**The End**

That was that… Please review. The Voldemort-won-the-war one-shot will be around when I'm bothered to write them. On average one-shot's take a day or two for me to do.

Review?


End file.
